


i’m yours (always and forever)

by zhosungs



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, like extremely light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29953215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhosungs/pseuds/zhosungs
Summary: the sky is blue. grass is green. chenle loves jisung, and jisung loves him back, even when things get hard.
Relationships: Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 31
Kudos: 86





	i’m yours (always and forever)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on a whim, burnt out from planning all of my long fics. i wrote this because i was tired of spending each day not writing, as much as i would yearn, so today i just said “fuck it” and set my mind on plotless fluff. except in less than 2k words, it turned into more than that. so while one shots aren’t really my thing, i do adore this. i adore it very much. i wrote it for myself but if you liked it, im glad—thank you for reading it.

_Sungie,_

_I’ll be late today—later than usual. My partner was absent, flu season and all, so I had to pick up the slack. Nothing out of the ordinary, but God. It always feels like I’m picking up the slack._

_There’s food in the refrigerator, in case you get hungry after practice. It better be gone when I get home! You can’t dance on an energy bar diet, dummy.  
_

_I love you a billion.  
_

_Always yours,_

_Lele  
  
_

Chenle is exhausted when he comes home, throwing down his bookbag with no regard for the expensive laptop inside. Naturally, he drops himself into Jisung’s arms and deeply sighs, feeling the warmth of his boyfriend wrap around him like a blanket.

“Hard day?” Jisung whispers, his lips pressed into his boyfriend’s soft hair. He adjusts his position on the couch to make Chenle more comfortable. 

Chenle nods and smooshes his cheek against Jisung’s chest. He can hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. What a soothing sound, to know that Jisung is with him and alive in a universe Chenle used to hate. Now he can't imagine life any other way. “Being a nursing student is hard. Everything is hard.”

”Mhm.”

Jisung doesn’t press Chenle for further explanation, not today. Sometimes he just knows when to stop, what lines to cross. Sometimes he knows when to push and when to pull away—but never too much. The last time he did that, Chenle started crying, the ends of his sweater sopping with worried tears, and so Jisung never strayed that far again.

He notes the reddish tint on his cute, button nose, and quietly hopes it’s from seasonal allergies.

“What do you need?” Jisung whispers. His words translate into _What can I do for you? How can I make you feel better?_

“Maybe we can watch Netflix?”

”Grey’s Anatomy?” 

Chenle groans. “God, no. Enough hospitals. I spend every day in one.”

"The Fate Saga?"

Another groan. "Absolutely not. I rather die. The live adaptation is cruel and unusual punishment to all Winx Club enthusiasts." He yawns, and Jisung realizes Chenle’s eyebags are darker than usual. Usually, his boyfriend masks his tiredness with concealer, but either it’s not working or he just didn’t put any on because there were more things on his mind, like exams. "You choose. I'm a terrible decision-maker."

That's a lie. It's Jisung who can never decide on anything. Chenle is the one that pushes him to new opportunities, or sometimes, takes initiative on his behalf. (Jisung recalls the time Chenle forged his signature and sent his audition video into his current dance academy. He had been upset that Chenle did it behind his back, but he wouldn't have gotten in the academy otherwise. And that's only one of the ways Chenle has changed his life.)

Jisung has a million favors to return, too many to count—so he hates seeing Chenle so burnt out, running on dreams, and the fear of missing a deadline. He deserves better. He deserves everything, and then some. (If only Jisung could give him that.)

“What about sleep?” Jisung suggests, “I can carry you to bed.”

Chenle gives his jaw a light peck. Jisung feels the corners of his lips gently turn upward. “For what?”

Jisung shakes his head. “Lele. I know you’re tired, you don’t have to pretend you’re not.”

“Who says I’m pretending?” Chenle remarks. Then he yawns, and says, “You didn’t hear that.” 

“I didn’t have to.”

“Jaemin is doing just fine on four hours of nap time, thank you very much. But then again, I just think he’s fucking insane. I bet if you put a microscope to his vein, you’ll see coffee running through it.”

Jisung doesn’t doubt it. He’s met Chenle’s classmate a few times, and Jaemin’s first hello sounded jittery and caffeine fueled, just like the way he moved—that’s not the point. “There’s a difference between doing your best and working yourself down to the bone. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Chenle grumbles.

“I don’t _wanna_ sleep. I missed you, Sungie. I miss you all the time.” Chenle’s voice shifts from weak, defiant whine to a sad, longing murmur. “I barely see you anymore, I’m always stuck at school or the lab or the library and with people I don’t even like.” His hands ball into Jisung’s shirt, slightly pained. “I don’t want to waste a single moment. I don’t want to sleep when I could be looking at you, or talking to you, or being with you, you know?” Chenle huffs. “I hate sleep. I hate needing to sleep. I wanna stay awake as much as possible because life is so short and I want to do everything with you.”

The air feels heavier at that. 

“I know,” Jisung says, his voice constricting, “I’m sorry.”

Chenle looks up, the features on his face softening with worry. He hurriedly picks himself up from Jisung’s chest and places his hands on Jisung’s face instead. His touch is warm. So warm, that Jisung can’t help but lean into it, even though he’s acutely aware of the tears beginning to well up in his eyes. He curses beneath his breath, hating the prickly sensation, because he shouldn’t be like this. If anything, Chenle is the one who deserves to cry.

“What? No, don’t be sorry, love. Why are you sorry? There’s nothing to apologize for,” Chenle quickly reassures him, although he doesn’t know the cause of Jisung’s sudden crying.   
  
“You’re working so hard... always trying to make time to be with me, and I just wish I could make it easier for you,” Jisung mumbles, “If I had gotten into your school, maybe we wouldn’t be struggling to meet each other halfway all the time.”

Chenle slaps his chest, lightly. “Hey. You love dancing, and I would never want you to do anything but that. Plus, I know that you’d be miserable trying to memorize all the parts of a cell.”

”I know the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, though.”

Chenle scoffs, then raises his eyebrow. “Right. What about the lysosome?”

Jisung sniffs at that, before looking away. He blushes. “Why are we talking about biology?”

“Why are you are apologizing for nothing again?” Chenle shoots back. “I told you, dummy. You and I aren’t allowed to settle, okay? I’m going to be a badass nurse and you’re going to be a dancer, and we’re going to make it work. Yeah, we’re going to struggle, that’s a given. But it’s us. We can do anything.” 

Chenle thumbs Jisung’s wet cheekbone, carefully. Jisung places his hand on his, and squeezes. “You’re the whole reason why I’m even in med school, Ji. If you hadn’t told me to keep going, and stayed with me during all those nights of studying—on call or in my bed, getting chips all over my comforter—then I don’t know where I’d be. And I get through each day knowing that you’ll be waiting for me with open arms.”

It’s silent as Jisung peels his boyfriend’s hand away from his face. He laces his fingers with Chenle’s. 

“Yeah,” is all Jisung says.

“Yeah?” Chenle laughs, bouncing on the couch with a teasing smile. His hair goes up with the motion, and fleetingly, Jisung is overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. 

So he does.

He presses his lips against Chenle’s, trying to communicate everything he can’t say, because he’s never been good with words.

Kissing Chenle, soft and slow, makes him feel like he’s sixteen. Reminds him of the day they met the bubbly transfer who sat next to him in Algebra. Reminds him of how hard Chenle tried to talk to him, even thought he barely knew Korean, and Jisung hid in his hood, afraid of everyone and everything. Reminds him of the first time he saw Chenle’s eyes sparkle, brown and beautiful, after winning the free throw game at the arcade. (Jisung had stopped trying to win earlier on. He had gotten lost in watching Chenle shoot each basket—because he had never seen a boy glow like that before.) Reminds him of the beginning, the middle, the end of everything between them, sealed with the taste of bubblegum Chenle’s so fond of.

”I love you,” he says, repeating the same three words again and again, praying that Chenle knows that he means it through each kiss, “So much.”

Truthfully, Jisung may never stop feeling sorry to Chenle—he wants take away his fatigue, his pain, his worries, and make them his own, to lessen the burdens he has. 

“I love you too,” Chenle tells him, like this is his first confession, “Even when you’re being stubborn.”

”Me, stubborn?” Jisung asks, pretending to sound scandalized, “Says you, Mister-This-Is-The-Last-Slide-I-Swear!”

Chenle gasps. “I can’t believe your memory goes back that far.”

”It does. And I have pictures of you drooling over your laptop,” Jisung mentions as Chenle barrels on top of him, scrambling for the phone in his pocket. “Get your tiny hands off me!”

”My hands aren’t tiny, you just have fly swatters attached to your limbs!”

”Oh, you...”

Jisung grabs Chenle by the wrist, moving it to the side, and uses his free arm to pull him close. Seconds go by before Chenle relaxes in his tender embrace, half-heartedly whining, “This is unfair.”

”You are unfair,” Jisung mutters, running his hands through Chenle’s hair. “For being... you. I can never win against you.”

Quietly, Chenle giggles. “Of course. I’m Zhong Chenle.” He sleepily murmurs, “The one you love.”

Jisung’s heartbeat slows as soon as it speeds up, a crescendo in his ribcage. He doesn’t need to look at Chenle to know that he’s dreaming of tomorrow, of a day where he can wake up just to sleep again, right here in Jisung’s arms. Again and again, until one day, he never has to leave.

_You're Zhong Chenle. The one I love._

”Always,” Jisung whispers, “Always and forever. No matter what.”

They don’t end up watching Netflix—instead, the night ends with Chenle dozed off, and Jisung gently humming to a song he’s been practicing the dance to. He can’t wait to tell Chenle all about it, just like everything else, but for now, he’s content with just this singular moment. Because it’s them.

Because it’s _us,_ he thinks.

Because he loves Chenle, and Chenle loves him, and because they’re not invincible, but they’re more than enough to keep each other going.  
  
And that’s all he needs.   
  


  
  


_Sungie,_

_By the time you read this, I’ll have slipped out like a cat._

_You are cute with a bit of drool. I have pictures saved on my phone now, and they’re incriminating, so watch out—that’s payback for taking those pictures of me._

_Let’s be stubborn together. Stupid together. Anything together, as long as possible, yeah? I’m never tired of you. I’ll never_ get _tired of you.  
_

_I love you, infinitely._

_Yours, yours, yours,_

_Lele_

_P.S: I’ve been thinking... maybe we can get a puppy? There’s been a stray one sitting outside the hospital—I already have a name for her. Big head._

_Get it? We’d be the big head family._

**Author's Note:**

> hmu at zhosungs on twitter <3 thank u vamp for the mood board and thank u ash for telling to just write without thinking. wouldn’t be here without y’all.
> 
> p.s: i would appreciate any kudos or comments <333


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